


Bomb

by Lutefiskfisk



Category: Orange is the New Black
Genre: Anger, Angst, Attempted Murder, Bombs, Delusions, Gen, Hatred, Heavy Angst, I Don't Even Know, Jealousy, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Pre-Canon, Revenge, Self-Hatred, Self-Worth Issues, Stalking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-25
Updated: 2019-04-25
Packaged: 2020-01-31 21:22:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18599668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lutefiskfisk/pseuds/Lutefiskfisk
Summary: Lorna figures that she has to get rid of Angela.





	Bomb

**Author's Note:**

> A little excursion into something I’ve spontaneously put together before I go back to updating Insights (chapters 22-24 are in the pipeline). 
> 
> This is actually something that I’ve wanted to write in forever, but for which I couldn’t think of a framework I liked. Well, until now. 
> 
> Warning: this goes into the darker places of Lorna’s psyche. It was an interesting thing for me to explore and frighteningly easy to write, but I guess it’s pretty fucking heavy. 
> 
> Any feedback is much appreciated!

The sun was shining brightly and it mirrored Lorna’s mood. Just a little more than half an hour, and she’d finally see him again, her Christopher. But for now, she contented herself with wandering around his house and taking in the beautiful sight of the building and the garden that surrounded it.

It was an idyllic scenery, a typical little suburban home just like the one she’d always imagined. And now that she was here, it almost felt to her like a sacred place. Like a promise. A vision of the future right here in the present. This was where she was going to live, where she was going to raise their children, where she was going to have her _‘Happily ever after’_ with this wonderful man. Or, in short, the place in which all her dreams were going to come true.

Smiling blissfully, she crouched down and picked a daffodil from one of the flower beds. She closed her eyes and inhaled its sweet scent, then stuck it into her hair, intent on saving it for her mood board at home.

She enjoyed coming here at this time of the day every once in a while for those brief moments in which she could see Christopher without a wall between them and watch him move with the poise of a man who was in a place that was his. She also liked to reassure herself that he’d made it home from work safe and sound. He normally arrived at six, give or take a couple of minutes. Today, as a look at her watch told her, he seemed to be late. But that was okay. She’d wait. He was worth it.

But two hours later, there still was no sign of him. The sun had almost set and Lorna, who wasn’t dressed for these cooler temperatures, started to shiver and the daffodil that she was nervously rolling between her fingers had begun to shrivel up in her hands. She started to worry. Should she call the police so that they could search for him? It was probably not such a swell idea considering the most recent events (all born out of nothing but a big terrible misunderstanding that she hoped to do away with soon), but what if something had happened to her poor baby and she was the only one who could save him? He would be so grateful.

She’d started to fumble for her phone when a car that wasn’t Christopher’s parked in front of the house. Lorna squinted her eyes, trying to make out who was inside - if it was Christopher, she had to get away; she was standing in plain view by the entrance and he wasn’t supposed to see her. But all she could recognize was the mane of dark hair of the person sitting in the driver’s seat who was apparently talking to the person next to them. And then, the driver’s door was opened and heat rose to Lorna’s face as _that woman_ got out.

As Angela walked over to Lorna, the shorter woman spied the silhouette of Christopher in the passenger’s seat. She felt the urge to call out to him, but she had barely opened her mouth when Angela drew herself up in front of her, her eyes ablaze with a look that could kill.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Angela snarled. “You don’t learn, do you? Not even a fucking restraining order can get into your thick… _fucking…_ skull that you’re not wanted here! So, let me get this straight once and for all: Christopher doesn’t want you and he will _never_ want you, and now _fuck off_ and don’t fucking dare to _ever_ come back or else I’m gonna call the cops!”

Each of her words felt like a punch in her stomach, building up hurt and anger inside the shorter woman. Too riled up for words, she just snorted and threw the daffodil to the ground before she stomped away, furiously blinking her eyes.

 

* * *

 

Lorna wanted revenge, but she didn’t know what to do. As though her own brain was making a grotesque attempt at hypnotizing her, the scene of the bitch getting out of her car kept playing in her mind. Over and over again, and with each repeat, the feeling of humiliation and powerlessness became stronger. _  
_

_‘Christopher doesn’t want you and he will_ never _want you!’  
_

Oh, he _does_ , and he _will_ , but you just _had_ to get between us and poison his mind with your bullshit, isn’t that right, you smug fucking cunt? _  
_

_‘_ Fuck off _and don’t fucking dare to_ ever _come back!’_

Who the hell are you that you think you’ve got the right to tell me where to _be_?

 _‘He will_ never _want you!’_

She imagined her sitting with Christopher on their cozy living room couch, whispering about her, laughing about her, and, slowly but steadily, destroying the beautiful bond that she had with the man, interfering with their destiny, turning this person that was meant to be hers, one of the few people that had ever _seen_ her, against her, just like the bullies at her school used to.

And then, there was the fear that she could have called the police. Nothing had happened so far, but the threat had Lorna spend nights lying awake out of fear. It shook her that this whoring cooze had the power to destroy her life, to eliminate her, by means of just one single phone call, and to then steal Christopher from her once and for all.

She wanted the thoughts to stop. She couldn’t take it anymore. That evil woman had to go away, to just disappear. She was the source of all her pain and once she was gone, everything would be okay again. And the way she’d go had better be painful.

 

* * *

 

A couple of days after the incident, Lorna entered Mikey’s room with a clothes basket in her hand. She wasn’t surprised to see her older brother on his computer where he was playing one of his stupid shoot-everyone-with-your-rifle games. In fact, she found it more surprising that the shitty old thing was even still functional, but that was probably just because Mikey seemed to put every single cent of his money into it, or at least of that part of the money that he hadn’t already invested in booze and weed.

But she didn’t need this train of thought to remind herself of her brother’s vices, because the air in the room was thick with a stale mixture of body odor and old reefer. She opened the window to air it out.

“This room is vile,” she said pointedly as she picked up a discarded pair of boxer shorts from the floor with her thumb and index finger and dropped it into the basket. “It won’t kill you to clean it up every once in a while, you know?”

It wasn’t so much the cleaning that she minded, but the complete lack of acknowledgement that she was even in the room, as if she was his fucking maid. Christopher would be so much more thankful for her efforts to make the house look nice. He would shower her with kisses and cute little surprise presents and give her the occasional massage… Not that she wanted any of those things from Mikey. That thought was even more disgusting than this room.

“Oh gawd, you sound like mum,” Mikey groaned without turning away from his game.

Lorna frowned for a moment, her unfocused eyes resting on the crusty plate on Mikey’s nightstand. She wasn’t sure if that was a flattering comparison. Maybe it was, if he was referring to the old version of their mother, before she kept fading in and out of consciousness, shouting gibberish and shitting her pants.

“Well, she’s got a point if you’re wasting all day on your computer like that,” she finally said.

That actually got Mikey’s attention. He paused his game and swivelled around in his chair.

“I ain’t _wasting_ my time,” he said indignantly. “Betcha didn’t know that gaming-” He tilted his head towards the monitor. “-trains your strategic skills and reaction time, huh?”

“Oh, that’s just a lame excuse for you to play your games.”

“ _And_ that computer skills are needed for all sorts of jobs.”

“Like you’re doing any of that.”

“Then lemme impress you with something fucking useful, sis. Betcha I can find _anything_ online. Any piece of knowledge, any thing to buy. You name it, I show you. Right here.”

It was as if a fog had cleared from Lorna’s brain at this very instant, and suddenly, it seemed so obvious what she had to do.

“Okay,” she said as she drew nearer to her brother, trying to keep her excitement in check. “So, how about… a bomb?”

Mikey let out a low whistle.

“Man, look at you, Lornie, who woulda thunk you had _that_ in you? Whaddya need that for, huh?” he teased.

“Never you mind,” Lorna replied tersely. “And don’t call me Lornie. So, are you gonna show me or what?”

For a brief moment, Mikey raised his brows, but then he shrugged.

“Alright,” he said and turned back towards his monitor. “Behold the power of the darknet,” he announced theatrically as he opened a browser and entered something into the address bar, all while Lorna was staring at the screen with intense concentration, anxious to not miss any single detail. After a couple of moments of typing and clicking, Mikey presented his search results.

“Ta-daa!” he said smugly, leaning back in his chair. “See, Lornie? Bomb!”

Lorna was so fascinated that his repeated use of her childhood nickname didn’t register with her.

“Wow,” she acknowledged as she scanned the finds. “I’ve gotta say, I _am_ impressed, Mikey! This is fantastic!”

“It is, innit?” Mikey grinned. “Toldya I can find anything on there. Shit, there’s even places where you can hire a hitman for, like, five grand. Not to give you any ideas,” he added, and Lorna guiltily tore her eyes away from the screen, afraid that Mikey might have noticed the sheer hunger in her gaze. “Though, if I were you,” he continued. “I wouldn’t buy a fully assembled bomb on there. Too suspicious. I’d rather buy the components and put it together myself. Can’t be too difficult and there’s gotta be instructions somewhere on here.”

 

* * *

 

A few weeks passed by during which the parcels that Lorna picked up from the post office contained items of a more dubious nature than just soon-to-be-scammed designer clothes. She’d also managed to track Angela down based on her number plate that she’d memorized, and that was how she eventually found herself checking out the handsome little house in Albany.

It wasn’t that she didn’t have a conscience. No, every once in a while, she caught herself wondering what the hell she was actually doing there, and those lucid moments were scary as fuck. They made her aware that what she was planning was to kill an actual person. Another human being. Someone who had a mother. And a father. Maybe siblings. And if she got caught, she’d be in serious trouble. All because of… A man? Some shit she’d said? Well, basically, yes. The thing was, Angela’s last words had somehow ingrained themselves deep into her brain and every time she thought about Christopher, they replayed in her head, reminding her of her greatest fear: that she wasn’t good enough. That she was damaged. Fucked up beyond hope. Unwanted. Undeserving. Unlovable. And whenever that happened (which was often as she just couldn’t stop thinking about Christopher), she was back in that vindictive bomb-building mode, almost as though she was acting on autopilot, and she couldn’t have stopped herself even if she’d wanted to.

_‘He doesn’t want you!’  
_

_‘He’ll_ never _want you!’  
_

These words were echoing in her head right now as she was padding around the house. It seemed unoccupied. And the cunt’s car was there, too. The perfect opportunity. Now or never.

Double-checking that no-one was near for sure, she made her way to the car and hid behind it, convinced that this was what it must be like for an agent to be on a secret mission, or maybe a character from one of Mikey’s computer games. With shaking fingers, she opened her purse and carefully pulled out the bomb and the wrinkled printout of the instructions that she’d found online. And as she started to attach the device to the car, she was washed over with a feeling of deep satisfaction, knowing that, finally, she would get peace of mind and Angela would get what she deserved. And when that happened, poor Christopher would finally be free from the clutch of that evil cunt and the predestined order of things would be reinstated. All thanks to her. She was doing good.

 


End file.
